Turtle Woman Sonnet

Turtle Woman Sonnet

“When the yogi, like a tortoise withdrawing its limbs, 
can fully retire his senses from the objects of perception,
 his wisdom manifests steadiness.” —Bhagavad Gita II:58

I move slow, but what if win the race?
Will thy affection remain or fast fade ?
As speed is thy god, slow remains my pace.
I bear this heavy shell wherein I’m staid. 

Thy form unencumbered I do admire,
Once dumped over, I struggle long and hard;
My cooked flesh the gourmand’s greed does desire,
So I support the vegan’s cleaner board. 

Still, my fierce jaws from time to time will snap
At crazy bugs, small fish, or busy hand.
What choice have I beneath this heavy cap
Wherein I creep and crawl upon the land? 

I shall not weep; I’ll simply turn my face
And drop out of thy breathless, vapid race.

Converted to a Shakespearean sonnet from my original free verse poem “Turtle Woman,” which appears in my collection Turtle Woman & Other Poems.